After the floods

The rains overstayed their welcome, like visiting family who had fallen in love with the quirks of your town. We forgot what it felt like to stay dry. But on this October morning, the sun burned the nape of our necks.

We ran up the northernmost valley of Chiang Mai’s Ob Khan National Park, our route tracing the outskirts of the park (which stays closed when river levels rise).

The cool temperatures eased the running. The mud pulled at our sandals. We laughed as we waded the dozen streams that cut across the trail.

The trail was empty this morning. No bikers or runners. Once or twice we nodded to a local on his scooter, weighed down by farming equipment, but otherwise the trail was ours.

It is a hard run. From the outset, you’re going uphill— a gentle slope for most of the run and then a steep climb at the end. We’ve come to this run in all sorts of shape, and each time it takes its skin.